


from across the dinner table

by wishingwell44



Series: fight until your knuckles bleed [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Assassins & Hitmen, Awkward Conversations, F/M, M/M, Mission Fic, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Spies & Secret Agents, Undercover, Undercover Missions, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-07-07 07:29:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15903693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wishingwell44/pseuds/wishingwell44
Summary: ᴘᴀᴛʀᴏʟ, ʟɪɢʜᴛ ᴀʀᴍᴏʀ, sᴜɪᴛ, ғʀᴇᴇ ᴅɪɴɴᴇʀ. ᴘᴀʏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇᴅ ᴏɴᴄᴇ ʙᴏᴛʜ ᴘᴀʀᴛɪᴇs ᴀʀᴇ ʜᴏᴍᴇ sᴀғᴇʟʏ.ᴜɴᴅᴇʀsᴛᴏᴏᴅ.★Bucky Barnes' latest patrol job just became super easy. Get in, eat dinner, get out, make sure everyone is home safe. Steve Rogers' first undercover op since being re-commissioned just became a lot harder.





	from across the dinner table

**Author's Note:**

> all rights belong to marvel.

★

“Rogers,” Fury called from inside of the office.

“Director Fury,” Steve nodded as he entered. “I hear you have a possible case for me to take on?”

“Possibly.” Fury slid a manila folder across the deep cherry wood desk. “There’s been a string of crimes including multiple murders. We have a very baseline profile of the people committing the crimes, but not the head honcho. However, closer than where we were originally.”

“Multiple persons?” Steve asked during the lull of the conversation, as he idly flipped through the file.

“Possible. Not sure, but this is where you come in,” Fury replied.

“How so?”

“Undercover assignment with another agent. Mostly gathering intel. We cannot arrest or even begin to tail more until we have a better idea of who is committing the hits. The reports of the first murder were in 2010 – it was officially ruled a suicide, but further investigations have shown that it was possible it could have been ruled a murder, and subsequent incidents show that 50% could have been the same killer.”

“Any DNA results?”

“None, to my knowledge at least. I think I would know, since I authorize those types of things. Only DNA that has been found has been the victims’, most of which have been occurring during the winter months.” Fury paused.

“So, how long are we talking for this mission? Two…three months out on the field?“

“Barely. This is a test run. Simple stuff today – you’re mission is set for one evening…then we can see if you’re ready to go back,” Fury cut off Steve.

“A one night undercover assignment…searching for a possible serial murder but yet to have any traceable evidence,” Fury nodded. “…Am I the only one tailing this suspect? Or am I doing this alone?”

“At the current standing, Agent Romanov is going to be the other agent assigned to this case; but she is only to be used as back up.”

“May I ask one question?” Steve flipped through the profile for his cover.

“You just did, but go ahead.” Fury intertwined his fingers, and leaned back in his chair.

Steve filed his hair through his fingers, making ends stand up at uneven angles. “Who exactly are we trying to catch?

“Do you want the simple answer, or the long and convoluted answer?”

“I think the simple answer would suffice, sir.”

“He is called the Winter Soldier, not by us. I don’t think the FBI is creative enough to give him that name. The story begins 8 years ago - it feels like seventy. He targets politicians and influencers all over the world. In the mass media there had been one public spectacle. It was a warning to the CIA. He knew that they were watching him, and ever since kept an even lower profile than ever before. Most of the people we found dead were other kingpins in the industry that were found to have ‘overdoses’ but in reality, The Ghost would swoop in, subdue the victim, and work his magic. “

Steve nodded politely. “Good to know I’m gonna be essentially stalking him at a safe distance.”

“I expect a report by tonight on the preliminary details. Look through these files and the flash drive and e-mail me through the secure server and we’ll see if you got the assignment.”

“Thank you, sir.” Steve stood up extended his hand for a handshake, but Fury, was already buried in paperwork, not looking up. Smoothing out his suit, he exited the door.

★

Steve was at his desk typing away. He had a full weekend of doing nothing, and when the opportunity of not kicking down a most wanted criminal’s door at 2am after a shootout with their henchmen, it certainly calls for eating take out on the couch while marathoning the full series of The West Wing.

The keys on his laptop were clicking away when he noticed the desk creaked from someone leaning against it.

Natasha.

She was one of the agency’s best female agents, and had a knack for single missions.

“What do you have here?” She grabbed the file before Steve could even look up to meet her eyes.

“Oh, don’t give me that,” Steve laughed. “It’s that undercover op – you’re on it too,” he said, rubbing his head above his brow.

“I was specifically told that I am only backup. This is your...your op. Are you ready to go back?” Natasha asked with concern.

Steve was quiet. His last undercover operation had him stationed in the northwest part of the country about four years ago; his third mission. He was investigating a rouge neo-Nazi organization, which were the force behind some of the recent terrorist attacks at the time against federal and state property and massive attacks on people. Steve had to take some risks; while continually talking to Agent Carter he almost crashed a plane into the Pacific Ocean loaded with weaponized substances. He didn’t want to see people suffer so he took the best effort to get rid of them, even if that meant plunging into the deep undiscovered ocean. He was found, thankfully, but suffered a coma that put him under for seven months. Steve found out that the organization was caught and the people within it were put away for life in prison. Steve took a beating, mentally, from his deep cover and it showed in his work and personal life.  He was commissioned for a 6-month leave to recuperate from the coma, to get back up to speed both physically and mentally.

“I think so,” Steve slowly replied.  Steve got up and led Natasha into the conference room. The blinds were shut and he plugged the flash drive into the USB port, booting up the files.  They went over the timeline of The Ghost.

“There’s barely anything here,” Natasha scrolled through some of the case files. “We know that he has a prosthetic arm, and can stay in one spot for 8 hours. That’s nothing,”

“It’s better than having literally nothing. It’s not like we’re trying to figure out his favorite brand of coffee,” Steve rebuked.

“Wouldn’t know. Dude’s pretty secret himself. No social media, barely a face in the photos that were accidently taken of him and I’m pretty sure he’s fluent in Russian.” Natasha smirked.

“We’re all fluent in Russian.” Steve deadpanned.

Natasha just smirked and then plopped the file back on the table as she walked out of the conference room. “I’m off to work out with Clint. Talk to you later? Or will you be sleeping in front of the television tonight?”

“Ha ha, very funny. I’m probably going to be sleeping in front of this computer if I don’t get this report done in time. Go to your boyfriend and take a break from this mess of a mission,” Steve smiled.

“It doesn’t technically start until we get the information from the CI, correct? That’s when the contact tells us when and where?” Natasha asked.

“Correct,”

“We’ll be fine. Plus I’m only your backup. You’re the one that’s going zero to sixty on this mission.” Natasha winked, gave a warm smile, and then left. 

  
★

  
Steve begrudgingly walked back to his desk. The blinking line on Steve’s document was stagnant as he tried to think about what he was going to write next for his report. He covered the basics – about ten pages in. Two hours at his desk and he’s at a writer’s block.

_What Will this Operation Entail?_

He typed in what he thought, hoping Fury would approve in the report. The next three hours were spent typing away to polish it up like it was to become some best-selling novel.

_From: steven.g.rogers@starksecure.com_   
_To: nicholas.j.fury@starksecure.com_   
_Subject: Op 22-J86-SKC_

  
_Dear Director Fury,_   
_Attached you can find the report for the undercover operation for the upcoming three months. I found the case very intriguing, and hope to be chosen for this mission. As you know I have been stationed for deskwork for the past three months and before that decommissioned for a half a year, and looking forward to help if I am chosen for this operation._   
_Have a great weekend._

  
_Regards,_   
_Agent Steve G. Rogers_

Steve packed up his files and notes on the case and left for his apartment. The ride was smooth and un-eventful. He walked into his apartment where it was quiet, if not only for the low hum of the refrigerator.

He set up his computer, opening the secure server to see if he got a confirmation email. There was a small notification on the mail icon. He opened it right away.

_From: nicholas.j.fury@starksecure.com_   
_To: steven.g.rogers@starksecure.com_   
_Subject: RE: Op 22-J86-SKC_

_Thanks for the report. I will e-mail you on Sunday evening._

_Regards,_   
_Director Nick Fury_

Steve took a deep breath. Knowing that Fury received his reports, lifted a small weight off his shoulders, instead of continually mulling over whether or not he got the information. He took out his phone and dialed his favorite pizza place and opened up the file on his computer that held the first season for The West Wing.

★

Steve’s weekend went by quickly; his usual errands - picking up food for himself, laundry and trying to avoid spoilers of his favorite shows at all costs, as well as his usual routines – took up most of his time.  

Steve was at the stove, making a chicken dinner for himself when he heard a ping from his computer. Setting the spatula down, he grabbed his computer to place on the kitchen island, albeit small it still allowed a purpose. He entered is password and was granted access. 

  
_From: nicholas.j.fury@starksecure.com_   
_To: steven.g.rogers@starksecure.com, natasha.romanov@starksecure.com_   
_Subject: FWD: ATTCHED EMAIL - Op 22-J86-SKC_

_Office Monday morning 8:00am sharp._

_I expect you to be fully prepared._

_Regards,_   
_Director Nick Fury_

The email was cryptic enough that had no idea what to expect when he walked into Fury’s office tomorrow morning.  

★

It had been 9 hours, 13 minutes, and twenty-five seconds since his last job ended. As soon as he packed up his suitcase and zipped it closed he was off duty.

Until his next job, of course.

In between, he was the guy down the street , hurling trash into a dumpster, and watching the raccoons scurry to get some fresh moldy bread from behind the plastic barrier. He liked this time in between contracts – it made him forget about what occurred in his last hit. He was still behind the curtain, but a little less murder and a little more ‘your friendly next door neighbor’.

Freelancing as a hit man was probably the only job he agreed to when he was out of the military. He didn’t want to leave - it had been the only thing he knew growing up. He was an Army brat, moving from country to country, seeing his dad come back and forth from the base, until he left and never came back.

He stayed in the Army, becoming the 107th’s favorite sniper. He was calm, cool, and collected whenever he was put on a mission with the self-titled Howling Commandos - they knew how to make a guy feel welcome when using his expertise. 

He didn’t want to leave. He wanted to keep fighting, until one mission went wrong, and ended up in an experimental procedure at the VA back in D.C. Bucky became withdrawn and angry, and couldn’t get out of bed, until his old doctor gave him an option of a friend he knew that was looking for someone to complete a certain task that required his skill. 

It kind of…didn’t stop from there. Bucky started semi-fresh out of the gate and with time and energy, he utilized his experience to become, once again, a veteran in the industry. He had almost ten years experience, and knowing all the tricks to the trade made him the best guy to go to.

He was a top-notch assassin with a water bill that was too priced too high for this part of the city.  

It had been 9 hours, 20 minutes, 45 seconds since his last job, and that’s when his new burner phone decided to buzz. Bucky flipped open to the text messages.

_We need you again._

  
**Thank you for thinking of me.**   
**What is expected?**

  
_Basic duty. Patrol. Light armory._

  
**When and where?**

  
_Next week. Not sure day and time. Working out details for payment._   
_We know it’s at D’Abruzios’._

  
**Fancy.**

  
_Suit required._   
_Keep this number for further details in a few days._   
_Maybe take a shower, and expunge the last few days._

  
**understood**.

★

It had been a few days before any word came down through the pipeline regarding when the mission would take place. Had the CI stop working with the team? Did he get murdered?

Fury’s voice boomed through the intercom “My office, now.” Steve gathered his notebook and walked over to his boss’ desk. Before Steve could even sit down, Fury swiveled his chair around, and pushed forward a piece of paper explaining the details for the stint. “Pull out your best suit, Rogers, and clear out your schedule for Wednesday night.”

★

  
_8pm tonight._

It had been the text Bucky had been waiting for.Tonight’s job was easy. Get in, eat dinner, make sure no one dies, get out, get paid.

_Patrol, light armor, suit, free dinner._   
_Payment will be completed once both parties are home safely._

  
**Understood.**

★

  
Steve was tightening his tie, and smoothing down his jacket right before he entered the restaurant. Natasha was already sipping her wine. Her bright blonde hair with her deep black dress contrasted each other, making her striking and invisible at the same time.

“Nice to see you, darling,” Steve said woodenly as he pulled out his chair. Natasha rolled her eyes.

“Honey, this isn’t our first date, why the nerves?” Natasha asked quietly, an obvious question as to why Steve wasn’t as natural as usual while he was out on the field. She put her hand over Steve’s.

“Just a lot going on at work, I guess,” Steve forced a smile as the waiter walked up.

“Hi, my name is Dex and I’ll be your server tonight,” Steve and Natasha gave their small hellos. “Can I start you with anything to drink?”

“Yes, can I have a glass of the Tensen red blend?”

“Excellent choice, and any appetizers?”

“Could I please have the burrata salad to start with?” Natasha asked.   
“And for you, sir?”

“No appetizers for me, thank you though,” Steve’s nerves were really getting to him tonight. 

“He must have had a big lunch at the office,” Natasha gave her best performance. The waiter nodded and left for a few minutes before returning with Steve’s glass and Natasha’s food and let the both of them know he would be back in a little bit.

“How long has Sam been out of the office?” How long has it been since we have seen the target?

“It’s felt like months - but I think it’s only been a week or so. He’s flying in from Cancun tonight,” _The target has been seen a week or so, but expected to be here tonight._

“Did he go with anyone or was this another one of his bachelor trips?” I _s the target with a group or alone?_

“Another one of his bachelor trips,” _Alone_ “But I think he met some of his buddies in Cancun,”  _but has been seen with others._

“How is everything?” Dex asked. Natasha skimmed the menu when a glint of light caught her eye. 

It was him, sitting a few tables behind Steve. Natasha dropped her fork. “Shit,”  
That was not in the script.

“Are you ok? Let me get you a new fork,” Dex asked.

“Thank you, I hope I didn't damage the metal,” as soon as he heard the last work in the sentence, Steve perked up. He’s here. Dinner was ordered and brought to Steve and Natasha’s table. Dex let them know if anything was an issue, to let him know and walked away.

“Our guests have arrived,” Natasha said quietly 

“Who’s joining the feast?” Steve asked. 

“Alexander Pierce and Senetor Stern have joined the table with him,”

“What a lovely crew,” Steve remarked sarcastically. “What can we do without dodging the menu...too much?”  _How can stay on task?_

The man with the metal arm pushed out his chair and walked toward the back room. He walked right by the table and Natasha quickly changed the subject. His hair came down to the bottom of his chin and the jet black color hid most of his features. The metal glistened against the light where his suit jacket ended and his leather glove began. 

“Well, that’s when Cheryl said ‘Pangea? That’s a Buzzfeed cooking video right?!” Natasha turned on her fake laughter as Steve chuckled. “One of those inside work jokes, I guess!” 

“He’s in. Also, where did that even come from?”

“Don’t mock my skills as a level one improviser.”

Steve rolled his eyes slightly. “We are here to get the fish, and not the steak. I’m going to head to the restroom,” Steve folded up his napkin and placed it on the table. He was stopped by Natasha grabbing his arm.

“We don’t know what’s going on here tonight. He could be here to kill anyone. Be careful Steve,” Natasha whispered. Steve smiled slightly.

“Always.”

★

 _Both the senator and Director would be fine. Literally,_  Bucky 

thought. D’Abruzzo’s had bulletproof glass and as soon as Bucky walked into the restaurant he counted four other hired security guards standing around the exits. Bucky was only there for show, and for that, he took his time in the Men’s room.

Before he left, he stopped right before the mirrors above the sinks. He looked gaunt -  high cheekbones caused an illusion of his cheeks to turn slightly in, always looking like the harbinger of death.

Another man popped out of the stall – tall but fit, and in a suit that looked like it was perfectly measured to his body – and fervently washed his hands.

“Nervous?” Bucky asked.

The man cleared his throat. “Oh,” he laughed. “Old habits die hard. I guess you can take the surgeon out of the hospital but not the hospital out of the surgeon.” He swiped a paper towel from the counter. “That made no sense at all,”

“No, it totally did. We gotta really make sure they’re clean,” Bucky ran that sentence over about six times in his head.  He really couldn’t talk to other people normally.

“True! I mean if anything I’m probably over washing because I’m nervous,” the blond man rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m proposing to my girl after dinner.”

“Well, my congrats if she says yes,” Bucky smiled. “I’ll be crossing my fingers,” Bucky looked, really looked at the man. “Wait, do we know each other?”

The blond man stopped from walking out of the Men’s room. “Huh? Oh, uh did you go to school in Northern California…?”

“No,”

“Ah, you got my hopes up! I though I got another Cali man here on the East coast,” Blondie ,as Bucky internally referred to the other man, started to smooth down his jacket. “You’re eating with the senator tonight?” He was met with silence. “Sorry, I shouldn’t impose – just crazy when you see a political celebrity!”

Bucky started to throw together a shoddy response. “He’s…just a business partner. I think we’ve known each other for about three years now?” He leaned against the countertop.

‘That’s awesome,” Blondie stated in blind disillusionment. “Look I will keep my political fanboying to a minimum,” he chuckled. “I kind of have to, uh, get back to dinner.”

“Congrats, by the way,” Bucky was met with silence, “On the marriage,”

“Yes! Thank you. Crossing my fingers.” Blondie smiled and started to walk out the door.

“Wait,” Bucky followed him. It was a huge stretch – this man was about to propose to his girlfriend. “Are you sure? Did you spend any time in Brooklyn?” Bucky looked right into Blondie’s eyes. They were deep blue pools that aged the longer you stared at them.

“Never been to New York City, actually. Maybe next trip,”

If you’re ever back in the area…come by my place is what Bucky wanted to say. 

“Sorry to disappoint,” the blond man walked out of the hallway and sat back down at his table.

★

  
Steve reeled as he walked back to the table. He knew that face but he didn’t want to say it.

“Everything okay? You were in there for a while,” Natasha’s voice brought Steve back. She put on a show but her words were true.

Steve just took a long sip of his glass of wine. “Yeah, yeah. Good wine.”

“Okay,” Natasha sighed. “Desert?”

★

  
The rest of the dinner went quietly, and Steve enjoyed the tiramisu. No shootouts, and no fights. It was pleasant.

★

  
Bucky gathered the Director and senator into their respective cars. He huddled into his own and turned on his tracking device. He watched the two clients get home safely.

His phone buzzed.

Transfer complete.

★

Steve downed two Advil and a glass of water. He saw Clint looking at him with confusion. “Me and a few good glasses of red wine don’t quite mix.”

Steve printed his report from the night before, and headed to Fury’s office.

“Nice job on the report,” Fury said, putting it down. “Now, we have a list of twelve subjects,” he scattered the photos on the table. “Since we know that you had an up and close encounter with The Ghost, point to me which one he is.”

He will never forget that face. That face was dead center on Fury’s desk. He grew up seeing that face every day, coming into his childhood home, asking where Steve was.

‘It’s him,” Steve pointed to the center photo. “Bucky is the suspect known as The Ghost.”

Fury leaned back into his chair, and crossed his arms. “Who the  _hell_ is Bucky?”

★

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to my wonderful friends funvee - for helping me with almost all of the techincal stuff and helping to motivate me to write this fic - and TinyOtter - for the help in polishing it up! 
> 
> If you haven't read funvee's work, please do so because it's amazing.
> 
> This work is an eventual part of a series. Constructive criticism is always welcome!


End file.
